


Old Feelings and New

by VGal



Category: Dragon's Dogma
Genre: Drama, F/M, Mid-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VGal/pseuds/VGal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barnaby recounts his master's final moments to the Arisen as she recovers from battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Feelings and New

Barnaby was in the Pawn Guild when the commotion began outside. He thought little of the noise at first, perhaps a merchant or farmer got into a scuffle with someone, or some other revelry that was of no concern to him. Then a few seconds later loud squawking was clearly heard, followed by screaming belonging to several of the villagers that had ran past his doorway. He and a fellow pawn—a mage—quickly ran to investigate the source of their terror and that’s when he saw it.

 

“A cockatrice?!” Barnaby exclaimed, shocked like any human would be when faced with such an enormous and deadly sight. “But… _how?_ ”

 

It had been years, mayhap decades, since a cockatrice was last sighted in Gransys. Barnaby himself had not seen one since the days he served his master. Even so, it was not in the nature of these creatures to purposely attack cities as large as Gran Soren; something else was at work here, of that Barnaby was certain. It was not by mere chance that something of this sort would happen not long after the Arisen and her companion was called away. It was strange, but he found himself…afraid—afraid for the denizens of Gran Soren and afraid for his beloved guild that he had worked so hard to establish.

 

“What should we do, Barnaby?” The other pawn asked, seemingly concerned and in want of counsel, but Barnaby had none to give. He knew not what he himself should do.

 

“ _Please_ …bring her back swiftly.” He prayed instead, not entirely sure if the Maker answered pawns, but found it was the only human thing he could do at present. He would fight if it came to it, or try at least, but knew it would be a useless effort. He had defended a lone mercenary from a powerful archmage long ago and it cost him what some might call a pawn’s livelihood. Although his body had healed perfectly, the mage’s spell had seen fit to rob it of its full strength. His guild was his livelihood now and with it he was finally able to keep his promise. Come what may, he would not abandon the Pawn Guild. Barnaby continued to watch this catastrophic event unfold, praying for the Arisen’s safe and speedy return.

 

It seemed the Maker saw fit to answer him… A familiar cry erupted in the fields below him. He ran to get a closer look, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he already knew must be true; he smiled in what was unmistakable relief. There she was, golden hair shining in the mid day sun and her sword grasped firmly in hand. The Arisen had returned! Several projectiles flew from the weapon as she struck the magical sphere before her, joined by a flurry of arrows from the ranger pawn at her side, piercing the swelling breast of the cockatrice. The large creature let loose a high shriek in pain, interrupting its attack and giving the Arisen just enough time to take hold of it by its feathers, much to Barnaby’s dismay. A cockatrice was far wilder and even less predictable than its griffin counterpart; they were territorial creatures that would lash out violently and sporadically at their attackers. It made matters worse that their claws were laced with poisonous venom and their breath could turn a man to stone.  He had found both out the hard way once and nearly lost his master because of the latter. There was too much noise from the creature and onlookers to simply call out to the Arisen or her pawn to warn them, so Barnaby continued to watch the fight below and pray that she would be all right.

 

The Arisen scaled the beast as best she could, trying to reach the creature’s head—she was not entirely sure what she was doing at this point, but was hoping a that stab or two to its head would put an end to the battle. However, the cockatrice had regained its wits quicker than she anticipated and began thrashing about madly, jerking her around like a wild horse would a rider, only in this case the horse was three times its size and there was no saddle or reigns.

 

“Hang on!” The ranger called out to his mistress, continuing his assault from the ground. “Damn this monster’s endurance!” Its skin was tough, thick, and all but immune to his arrows, but he would not give up. Raising his bow again, he followed his target with a masterful eye this time, putting all of his strength into a single powerful shot aimed directly at the beast’s throat. _SQUAWK!_ Another shrill of pain; the cockatrice’s movements were hampered just enough for the Arisen to get astride the base of its neck. Barnaby sighed, thankful that she was no longer bouncing about the creature’s hindquarters. Still, the battle was not yet over; the cockatrice, though weakened, showed little sign of relenting. At this rate he did not know who would tire first… If she were to fall its many sharp talons would surely trample her.

 

“Go, help her!” Barnaby turned to the mage pawn beside him, whose only response was a firm nod of obedience. “Lightning! The creature fears lighting!”

 

The mage hastened to the battle below, staff in hand, and with a wave of both he summoned an element of powerful energy. “Lightning, lend thy sting!”

 

The cockatrice bellowed as electricity lashed out from the sky in several quick whips to strike it, stunning it for several seconds afterward. Before it was able to recover, the Arisen took her sword in both hands and, with all the strength she could muster, drove the blade deep into the base of the bird’s neck, twisting it sharply when it would go no further.  Her pawn quickly followed through with another charged arrow to the neck, this time with the mage’s thunder boon. The creature yelped pitifully, staggering a few steps before succumbing to defeat. The Arisen leapt from the creature as it fell, careful to avoid being crushed under its weight when it hit the ground. What onlookers there were cheered at her victory, and although Barnaby did not join in their bustling, he was smiling an exceptionally wide smile. It was as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest, for he realized he could now breathe much easier.

 

After taking a few well-deserved breaths herself, the Arisen walked back to the cockatrice in order to retrieve her still lodged sword. She studied the large bird for a few seconds; its body was twitching somewhat from traces of the mage’s levin spell. She hated to admit it, but this was most certainly a close one. She had never seen a monster like this one before; it looked akin to a griffin, but the color, face, and behavior were all wrong. She would need to learn more about it in case others of its kind were in her future, and with than in mind she pulled the sword from its neck. Whether it was in a final attempt to lash out at its attacker or merely expelling the last of its energy, the cockatrice jerked its head upward with a loud shrill directly at the Arisen’s face.

 

“Arisen!” Barnaby yelled to her, recognizing the bird’s intent, and felt that heavy weight from moments before come rushing back with a sharp pang in his chest. “Get away!”

 

The Arisen turned toward the direction Barnaby had called out to her, but before she could do anything else a thick, black smoke spewed from the creature’s mouth, enveloping her. She immediately began coughing, stumbling backwards in an attempt to fan the haze away with her arms. The ranger ran to the defense of his mistress, swiftly running the blade of his dagger through the beast’s head—bottom to top—to end its passing. The cockatrice fell silent at last.

 

“’Tis finally dead, Arisen.” He informed her, but when he turned she had already fallen to the ground, hand clutching at her aching chest, retching uncontrollably. “Master?!” He cried, kneeling by her side, supporting her with one hand and smoothing her back with the other, wracking his brain for aught that might help. His gaze shifted to Barnaby as he approached, a flicker of hope rose that the guild master would know what to do. “What’s wrong with her?”

 

“She’s been petrified. Come, we haven’t much time.” Barnaby explained to the ranger, who quickly turned his attention back to his mistress. Her profuse coughing from seconds before had abated, but her condition was worsening. Her body felt heavier to him, almost stiff, and he noticed the pigment of her skin was becoming slate in color.

 

“Master…?” The ranger shook her, gently at first, and then firmly. Nothing. She seemed as lifeless as the beast before them, unmoving and silent. “Open your eyes!”

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

Up and down, up and down, Barnaby watched the slow rise and fall of the Arisen’s chest. It served as a pleasant reminder that not only was she alive, but was resting peacefully. Petrification could easily consume man or pawn within a matter of minutes, thankfully he had been there and still had some remedies left in his private stores—liquor made from the innards of a cockatrice. It was a crude, but effective method of treatment and he thanked the Maker he had not thrown it out long ago.

 

“So much like him…” Thought Barnaby. He had not left the Arisen’s side since she was rushed to the guild and was most content to watch over her. It had been so long, too long if Barnaby thought hard enough, since he had truly been at the Arisen’s side. He had seen many come and go throughout the years, and did his best to serve each, but she was the first he had truly come to believe in; this young woman who had more zeal than most men he had known, but... He let loose a deep breath, brows furrowed, almost studying her as she lay unconscious in the bed before him. “Impetuous, stubborn, and…”

 

 _Alive._ But it was much more than Barnaby could put into words and he frowned at his inability to do so. Most humans either loathed or feared his kind because of their impassive nature and vacant expressions, both of which were not entirely inaccurate perceptions, but for all their talk of life and its vitality he had seen so much of it squandered. They would never know what it was like to be bound to someone and truly _feel_ that spark of life erupt within you. It was a feeling like no other, like liquid fire coursing through your veins, piercing your senses, and every moment since her arrival he had felt its embers rekindled.

 

Barnaby sat beside her on the bed, gently dabbing away the sweat from her face with a cool, clean cloth. It brought relief that her fever had subsided and showed little sign of returning. Her skin was also returning to its warm, pinkish hue; little evidence remained of her condition and he brushed aside the stray hairs that clung to her damp face. He had become so fond of her as of late, something he was becoming increasingly aware of, and not just because she was Arisen. She visited him often, inquiring about pawns or something she had heard in her travels, even bringing him a few large fish on occasion. He had mentioned his acquired taste for them in passing, but that they were difficult to procure now that travel had been restricted throughout much of Gransys—then she was at his door a week later with two of them and a wide smile on her face. And when she had called him friend he could not help but smile, too.

 

But pawns did not have friends, such relationships were difficult for his kind to maintain, they merely had those they knew and who knew them. There was no emotional attachment to the word, yet this young woman before him was his friend…and the word held meaning. He was…happy.

 

“Hmm…” A light groan suddenly broke the silence and Barnaby felt his heart skip a beat. A smile ghosted across his lips as half-lidded violet eyes opened to meet him. “Barnaby…?”

 

“It cheers me to see you well, Arisen.” His smile grew wider at the sound of her voice. “You’ve been unconscious for a few hours.”

 

“Hours?” Her voice was dull and groggy sounding; she rubbed her eyes lazily in a futile attempt to clear her head.  It felt as though her mind were encased in a dense fog, grasping at blurred images and muffled words. There was a fight…something large...a large bird. Yes, that was it!  “What…where’s the creature?”

 

“You don’t remember?” Barnaby said, concerned. Then again, her body had just been through a terrible ordeal, one she was fortunate enough to be recovering from. It only served to remind him just how human, and therefore fragile, she really was. It was so easy to forget that sometimes, even after all he had witnessed. All it took was one small mistake...like letting your guard down for one second.  He could only hope in the future she would be more mindful of her surroundings.  “You felled the cockatrice, but were nearly petrified in the process. Luckily, I was able to help afore the worst of it.”

 

“Petrified? Wait, where’s—” A sudden thought struck her and she tried to sit upright, but Barnaby placed a gentle hand to her shoulder to stop her. It was unwise to be up and about only having just regained consciousness; he feared she would relapse from strain or movement.

 

“Easy, Arisen. You haven’t yet fully recovered.” His voice was soft and soothing, encouraging her to lie back down. “Your companion was unharmed. He stayed until I assured him you would be all right. He’s gone to the Rift while you rest and will return in the morning.”

 

That was a relief. Although, worrying over a pawn was probably foolish seeing as they could not die. She had seen her own companion recover from things that would have certainly killed any normal man—he once fell in battle only to rise again by the mere touch of her hand. Pawns were strange, yet fascinating beings. She had kept company with them so often that their odd mannerisms no longer seemed all that odd. It was not the same as human companionship, of course, but it was not altogether unpleasant. Then she looked at the pawn before her. Barnaby seemed to defy most things she had heard and come to expect in pawns, even now his face held a cheerful smile and a rosy-like glow. His eyes did not share that same cold, emptiness like others of his kind; Barnaby’s held a warmth that she had always found comforting. And then she realized she was staring.

 

“I…suppose I should thank you for saving my life.” She said, casting her gaze elsewhere, and was not entirely sure if the flushed feeling that came over her was her waning lethargy or that Barnaby’s hand was now resting tenderly on her bare arm. “You must think me hopeless in this state.”

 

“Not at all. ‘Tis my duty to serve you any way I can. That’s why I’m here.” He replied matter-of-factly, but then lowered his head as if in disappointment. The fault lay not with her or her pawn, neither had faced such a beast before, but he had… “The fault is mine. I should have tried better to warn you, but…”

 

 _But what?_ He pondered, uncertain. _But the guards would have stopped me? But I could not leave the guild or Everfall?_ No, those were excuses, not reasons. Barnaby knew why he could not reach the Arisen; it was why he sent the mage with some quickly uttered advice in his stead. _What use is there for a pawn that can no longer fight at the Arisen’s side?_ He feared his presence on the battlefield might have proven to be more of a hindrance than help. That was why he could not leave the Pawn Guild; the guild was now his only way to help all future Arisen, the only way he had of keeping his promise.

 

“You did what you could, Barnaby.” She was quick to assure him, noticing his sudden dismal look. It was the first time she had seen him with such an expression, and then shifted her arm so that her hand lay atop his; she patted it for good measure, a sly grin on her face. “Besides, you saved me, remember? And that beast is dead, consider your service invaluable to me.”

 

Judging from her playful tone and the upturned corner of her lips, that part was probably meant in jest. Still, he sensed that there was some truth in what she told him and chuckled in response. “Yes, well, what are _friends_ for?”

 

His words must have pleased her because that smirk quickly morphed into a soft smile and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before withdrawing to rest it on her chest.

 

“Well…I should let you rest.” He then added, giving her hand one last brush with his before standing. “I have things that need posting and contracts that need reviewing.”

 

“Oh…” The Arisen’s head shifted about momentarily, becoming increasingly aware that she occupied what appeared to be the only available bed. “I hope you’re not working through the night on account of me?”

 

“No need to trouble yourself over me, Arisen.” Barnaby had to smile a little at her concern, but there was little reason to fuss over his comfort. He recalled his master doing aught similar, often when there was only one bed left at an inn, and how he would reassure him it was unnecessary. “We pawns require little rest…or food for that mater. They’re more…indulgences rather than necessities. Today’s events have kept me from my work anyway.”

 

“You really enjoy this don’t you, Barnaby?” Every time she passed through Gran Soren he was diligently at work, be it ironing out the details between a pawn and their employer or familiarizing newcomers from the Rift in human conduct. Truly, she had never seen a pawn so dedicated to his work. It was…charming, if she thought about it, which she was obviously doing. She was not entirely sure why she felt the need to voice it, however; perhaps her current condition was allowing her mind to wander more freely…and loudly.

 

Barnaby tilted his head a bit in confusion. He enjoyed many things, but to what was she referring? The current situation? He did enjoy having her with him—as would any pawn—but it was not his wish to see her hurt just to merely spend time with her. Mayhap there was something he overlooked in their conversation? He had come a long way in human behaviors, knowing he excelled at it compared to others of his kind, but every now and then even he would miss something. When he decided he was unsure as to what she meant, he decided to do the only appropriate human thing he could. “Beg pardon?”

 

“The Pawn Guild, I mean.” She clarified, trying to get a clear idea of what she was apparently asking. Her thoughts were in tact, but she still found it somewhat difficult to concentrate. She thought very fondly of Barnaby and the last thing she wanted was to come across as rude. Then again, was it even possible to offend him? Barnaby was a pawn, after all, but she had always sensed there was aught more to him. “I’ve never met a pawn like you, Barnaby. You really enjoy what you do here.”

 

“Ah…” Barnaby seemed at a loss for words. Few had ever expressed a genuine interest in his guild and those that had did not like the idea of a pawn running a business, much less owning one. However, her words were not unkind; in fact they suggested happiness for him. He smiled at that. “I suppose I do… This place does mean a lot to me.”

 

“What made you decide to open it?” She continued, eager to learn more about him. She had always enjoyed Barnaby’s company, feeling more at ease around him than anyone else in Gran Soren. It felt as if half the city was scheming things she dared not dwell on, Fournival and Mason came to mind, and those she thought were trustworthy, like Lord Julien, were not who they appeared to be. Barnaby was one of the few she could actually trust, which was why she found herself at his doorstep whenever she had the chance. The friendship they had formed was a pleasant side effect…for both of them.

 

Barnaby considered how best to proceed. No one had ever asked him this and he had rarely spoken of his master to anyone, at least not in great detail. His master was…well, gone, and his memory was Barnaby’s alone to honor and keep. “A promise I made to someone very important to me.”

 

“Your master?” She assumed. Barnaby had mentioned his master only once, saying he was slain by the wyrm some time ago, but nothing more. She thought he must have been a rather unique individual himself to inspire his pawn in such a way.

 

Barnaby only gave a solemn nod in response, but it was not impersonal as some of his expressions could be. He looked as though deep in thought, even lost in them. He seemed to convey several emotions, yet none at all. She had never seen him like this before and thought that her words may have revived something unpleasant. She frowned.

 

“Forgive me.” She said after moment, feeling as though she had wounded him in some way. “You need not explain if you do not wish to.”

 

“No…” He seemed distracted, but raised his eyes to meet hers. Her face seemed troubled and he smiled a soft smile to put her at ease. His master was by no means a secret he wished to keep—he did not wish to keep anything from her—but he had not spoken of him in what was most likely decades; he did not realize how fresh the memories were until dwelling on them. Such memories filled him with a mixture of joy and sadness and it was difficult to tell which was stronger or what it really meant, so his reply was late in coming. “I meant, no, ‘tis all right. You…are also important to me. I can think of no other I’d rather share this with than you.”

 

The Arisen felt a subtle warmth spreading across her face. She did not know what to say. “You honor me…”

 

It was true that he deeply respected her—she was Arisen—but there was aught more to it than that. This Arisen, this girl, who accomplished great feats and showed him such kindness, who slew hydras and evil sorcerers yet brought him his favorite fish. He returned to his place at her bedside, contemplating how to begin. It was a queer feeling, but…he noticed he was anxious.

 

“When my master…” Barnaby paused, staring intently at the floorboards. He rested his arms on his knees, clasping his hands as the memories bubbled to the surface. He took a deep breath, collecting himself. “When he died…” There, he managed to say it. “He bade me ‘ _help the Arisen who follow after me, help their pawns._ ’ And I promised I would, though I knew not what I should do. I simply sat there with him... His death was my fault.”

 

“You’re too hard on yourself.” He heard her say, and then felt the soft touch of her hand on his arm. There was a melancholy expression on his face, she mused, mayhap a guilty one; she wanted to tell him his master’s death was not his fault, that sometimes such things happened and that there was nothing he could have done to stop it. She felt that Barnaby was very much aware of the latter, however, and that he could do nothing was what troubled him most. She gave his arm a tender squeeze. “Barnaby?”

 

“I was knocked back when the wyrm turned suddenly…” He found himself continuing, the words poured from his mouth of their own volition. If not for her hold on him he feared he would be lost in them. “It made to grab me, I think, but my master he...he must have tried to intercede. It grabbed him afore I could recover.” Another deep breath; the Arisen’s hold on him tightened. “He was hurled to the ground. I…I could hear his bones breaking.”

 

“He died in my arms.” Barnaby cast a glance at his hands pensively, as if they alone were to blame. Some part of him believed they were… He used to play the battle over and over in his mind, scrutinizing his every move for something he could have done differently, could have said differently. In the end he knew no matter what he chose to do his master would have rushed to his aid, but it should not have came to that. _‘Twas my place to protect you, not the other way around._  

 

“I’m sorry…” The Arisen sat upright to face him, turning so that she was sitting along side him. His eyes looked empty, lacking that blue brilliance she had come to enjoy, though it was not the apathy of a typical pawn. This was more…much more and she felt heartsick for him. “He must have loved you very much.”

  
“Love?” Barnaby repeated, thoughtful. The concept of love was not entirely foreign, years of analyzing human behavior had given him a relative grasp of its connotations, but he had never attributed them to himself. Such a thing could not pertain to him, yet its mention had stirred something inside him. A wistful smile appeared on his lips as he recalled time spent with his master. “He did tell me more than once I reminded him of his son.”

 

She nodded, returning the smile. “Mayhap he thought of you as such. Did you know him?”

 

“No… He died afore I knew my master. ‘Twas a source of great pain for him.” Barnaby explained, doing his best to recall all mentions of the lad. A pawn’s memory was often meticulous; they had a unique ability to recall even the most trivial details, especially those surrounding their masters. Barnaby recalled how his master’s expression could vary when he spoke of his son; there were times he had smiled and laughed and others where his face grew more serious. He had not thought much of it then, but now that he was fairly experienced with humans he realized those conversations, however brief, had meant something. It was usually a sign of trust and intimacy when one shared information of a personal nature with someone. Barnaby then realized he was doing the exact same thing at this very moment; his smile grew.

 

“I think he resented me at first because I favored his son, but then he began speaking with me and the more he did so the more he seemed to enjoy it.” He continued, finding a sort of happiness in dusting off these old memories and sharing them with the Arisen. She was smiling at him when he looked at her, seemingly happy, too. “He taught me everything he knew, especially how to use a sword. _The right way_.” He said the last part in a deeper, almost playful tone. The Arisen thought he was likely imitating his master’s voice and she responded in a short, light giggle when he did so.

 

“Do you know what I remember most about him?” Barnaby asked, taking her hand between both of his. A somber tone was reflected in his words, possibly contemplative, though he did not appear sad to her. He seemed content, peaceful.

 

“What?” She replied softly, feeling the heat rising in her face again.

 

“He believed in the best of people…and of pawns. That each of us was capable of more than we realized.” He was absent-mindedly brushing the back of her hand with his thumb; a serene smile was on his face. “You remind me of him at times. He would have liked you, I think.”

 

She gave a modest laugh at that. She was grateful for the night sky and the guild’s poor lighting because she knew not what Barnaby might say if he saw the Arisen blushing like some silly little girl. “Oh, I don’t know… I’ve been called reckless and brassy on more than one occasion.”

 

“As was he.” Now it was Barnaby’s turn to laugh. Although he had chided his master and the Arisen on said recklessness, it was a quality that pawns typically lacked, one that could be a source of courage and strength in humans. It was often what set the Arisen apart from their fellow man. It was recklessness that caused her to charge the dragon instead of flee, after all, and even allowed them to meet. He was grateful for that. “Your friendship has meant a great deal to me, Arisen. I thank you for it.”

 

“My pleasure.” She said sweetly, but there was a seriousness to it, and placed her free hand atop the one on hers. She stared briefly at their intertwined hands, feeling a warm sensation swelling where her heart would be. She felt closer to him somehow, but it was more than their physical proximity; he had bore a portion of his soul to her and she would always cherish this moment. “Thank you, Barnaby, for telling me your story. I’m glad I could listen.”

 

“As am I… Although, I wish it were under better circumstances.” He attempted to jest, recalling that she _had_ almost died. She giggled again, a light tinkling noise that made him smile. Barnaby felt as though he could sit here with her like this forever, as foolish as that sounded, but he knew there were still many trials ahead—one in particular was in the back of his mind. She would need all of her wits and strength for what lie ahead; his only regret was that he could not be there with her when _that_ time came. With that thought in mind, he reluctantly withdrew his hands from hers. “I really should let you rest now. The hour is quite late…and His Grace will likely call for you soon.”

 

“Barnaby?” She said when he rose from her bedside, catching him by the sleeve of his tunic.

 

“Yes, Arisen?”

 

“About your master…” She began somewhat hesitantly, but the soft smile she was met with seemed to ease any uncertainty she had about continuing. “I’m sure he knows what you’ve accomplished and he’s proud of you.”

 

Barnaby stared at her momentarily, a thoughtful, yet uncertain expression showed on his face. He was not entirely sure what to make of her words, but nonetheless found himself reflecting on them. He occasionally prayed to the Maker, even visited Gran Soren’s Cathedral every so often, but he was not sure whether he did so out of conviction or simply to be more human. Perhaps it was some odd mixture of both? His master believed in the Maker, even as he lay dying he believed he would see his wife and son again. The Faith preached as much, teaching that the faithful would live beyond their mortal years in some otherworldly existence. Perhaps his master was there now, happy and proud of him. It was a thought that gave him much comfort. “You may be right.”

 

The Arisen gave him a hinting smile before settling back into bed. She watched Barnaby as he dimmed the lantern on the nearby table, grabbing a few parchments as he did so—contracts and jobs, she assumed. She chuckled under her breath so he would not hear; he really did intend to work through the night, but since he reminded her that pawns had little need for rest she would say nothing more of it…even though she still felt bad about it. Then a thought crossed her mind, she wondered if Barnaby took time off from his work. Probably not… When she had time she would convince the hardworking guild master to come fishing with her.

 

“Sleep well, Arisen.” She heard him say from across the room.

 

“Goodnight, Barnaby.”  She closed her eyes in an attempt to fall asleep, enjoying the thought of spending more time with him.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

It was two days later, mid-morning, when the Arisen came running into the Pawn Guild again, catching herself with her arm at the doorway. She immediately began scanning the room for Barnaby, which took all of two seconds; he was speaking with another pawn by the notice board, but paused mid-sentence when he caught sight of her.

 

“Barnaby, do you have a moment?” She asked when he looked in her direction.

 

“Of course, Arisen. Is something the matter?” Barnaby could not help but notice she seemed a bit winded, from having ran all the way to his doorstep no doubt, but she seemed more rushed than usual. He figured something must have happened and his curiosity peaked slightly.

 

“No. Yes…but that’s not why I’m here. Well, not exactly.” She rubbed the back of her head, feeling a bit antsy. She was hoping Barnaby would be alone so she could do what she needed or, at the very least, no more than a couple of pawns would be there, but the guild currently held quite a few pawns, most of who’s eyes were now fixed on her. She mustered a nervous smile at them; she swore she would never get used to that.

 

“Here, take this to your master. I’ll go over it with him if there’s a problem.” Barnaby handed the pawn in front of him a parchment, likely the details of said pawn’s contract. The pawn nodded in agreement, allowing Barnaby to return his attention to the Arisen.  “I’m all yours. How may I help?” He motioned her over to him, noticing then she was by herself. “Where’s your companion?”

 

“He’s gathering supplies at the apothecary for our journey.” She answered rather anxiously. She was not entirely sure what was wrong with her, but she had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach about this mission. This was the main reason that sparked her sudden need to visit the Pawn Guild, namely its proprietor.

 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Barnaby was very capable of reading and, to a point, understanding human behavior; the Arisen seemed aloof to him, yet in need of something. “Does it have to do with where you’re headed?”

 

“In a way… I’m not really sure when we’ll return.” _If we return._ She did not say; she did not want to worry Barnaby, especially over something she was not really sure of or could explain. “The Duke’s sending me to the Greatwall; I’m told Salvation has seized the fortress along with some of its men. I thought to be quit of them for a little while, but they seem to grow bolder with each defeat.”  

 

“Bold indeed… Taking the Greatwall is no simple feat.” Barnaby sounded rather uneasy himself by such news. He had heard of, and just _seen_ , the dark magic the cult was capable of. He could not help but be concerned for the Arisen, but also believed if anyone could put an end to Salvation it was she. “Although, they’re not so strong in number as they once were…to regroup so quickly seems an act of desperation. Still, naught more drives a man than that. Please, take care.”

 

“I will, don’t worry. That’s not really why I’m here anyway...” She passed a quick glance around the room, noticing some of the pawns were still watching her—most likely out of curiosity or perhaps hoping she may ask for one of them to aid her in her quest. She turned back to Barnaby. “Um, could we talk a bit more…privately?” There was something she truly needed to tell him before she left, but found it difficult to do with so many eyes on her.

 

Barnaby raised a curious eyebrow, but when scanning the room he realized all eyes were watching them. He shook his head, giving the pawns a look of disapproval, hoping they would understand their staring and eavesdropping was not appropriate for the current situation. Some seemed to catch on and averted their gaze elsewhere, others returned Barnaby’s expression with one of confusion.

 

“Down there, perhaps?” He offered, gesturing to the Rift Stone since no one was near it. “So, what can I do for you then?” He asked again once they were tucked in the corner beside the stone, thinking it must be important whatever it was.

 

“Actually, I have something for you.” She was smiling shyly at him now. Bashfulness was not usually in her nature, but she had never really done this sort of this thing before and discovered she was terrible with words when they mattered most. “Hold out your hand.”

 

Barnaby did as asked, though eyeing her curiously as she reached into the small pouch at her side. He could not see what she pulled from it, but felt the small, metallic-like object when she placed it carefully in his palm. His eyes widened when he finally saw it—a gold ring—and he fumbled for the right words. “Arisen, I… This is…”

 

“You know of it?” She hoped, taking note of his expression which suggested familiarity.

 

He nodded slowly, cradling the ring in his palm. “’Tis an Arisen’s Bond.” He traced its edges, gingerly, feeling something stir in him again as he considered its meaning. He had heard of the Arisen’s Bond, even saw it once in the company of a past Arisen, but only now did he realize he was capable of appreciating that meaning. The Arisen’s Bond was so much more than a mere gift; it was a symbolic representation of the Arisen’s very soul. That it was her wish to bestow such a venerable token on someone like him... A flushed feeling quickly spread across his face. “Are you sure you would vouchsafe this to…a pawn?”

 

“I was told to give this to whomever I hold most dear and I realize that someone is you.” She confessed, taking his hand in both of hers, folding his fingers gently over the ring. Her fondness for the pawn had been growing for some time and after everything he had shared with her the other night, the way he had held her hand and looked at her, the way he always smiled at her, and the way she always smiled back… She found herself unable to think of little else after she received her orders from the Duke this morning. The thought she may not see him for a long time hovered unpleasantly in the back of her mind. Something was waiting for her at the Greatwall; she could not explain how she knew, she simply _felt_ it. She wanted him to know that he was important to her, too, before… “So, whenever you look at this ring you’ll know that I love you.”

 

“I...” His heart swelled within his chest and his face was practically burning, or so it felt. He cared deeply for her, but struggled with the words to convey his sincerest feelings. The word love sprung to mind, too, but it seemed inadequate having never experienced it for himself. He searched for something he knew well, something that was real to him, something he could honestly say he _felt._ She had given him so much and it was his deepest wish to express his appreciation for it. “I know little of love, Arisen. I wish I did, truly, but…” He smiled, placing his hand atop hers so that they were entwined once more. “You have my deepest appreciation.”

 

She smiled back at him, apparently pleased with his response. “I think you know more than you realize.” She then lifted herself upward on her tiptoes and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, withdrawing her hands from his afterward. He starred at her, blinking, not really sure if someone had kissed him before, but that warm smile quickly returned. This was how she wanted to remember him, she thought. “I...I have to go now. Hopefully I’ll return soon.”

 

And then she was gone.

 

“What happened, Barnaby?” One of the pawns asked shortly after, taking notice that Barnaby had not moved from his spot beside the Rift Stone; a few other pawns were looking at him as well, joining the former in his curiosity.

 

“I…” Barnaby started, but then hesitated, glancing down at object in his hand. He was not sure he could fully explain, nor was he entirely sure he wanted to. What had happened was...wonderful and he simply wanted to enjoy the thought of it for now. “I’ll…try and explain later.” He decided, not really sure if he intended to. He continued to stand there, fingers ghosting across where her lips had kissed him and happily grinning at no one.

 

 

  **~ FIN ~**

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write some Arisen/Barnaby for a while now... Barnaby is my favorite character and preferred love interest. For a pawn, he's a very complex character and it's a shame that he (and others) weren't fleshed out more. I think his romance really had the potential to be something unique and special, especially when you take into account you slay the dragon that killed his master.


End file.
